Happily Married

This is yet another story of yet another married man who met a blond while married to a brunette. He fell  in love much against his will. After fighting his conscience for six whole months he told his wife he had met someone else, and the only honest thing to do was to move on. He packed a suitcase, wrote the house in his wife's name, and moved in with the blond. They got married once his divorce was final. They were terribly happy but he did need his stuff, since he had left his first wife's home with just one suitcase. Every now and then he drove to his first wife's house to pick up things he needed, or she dropped his things off at his new place, and by and by, as the awkwardness melted away with increasing familiarity, they all became good friends.
The blonde and the brunette fell hopelessly in love before you could say "Little Jack Horner" twice and started a clandestine affair behind his back. They had pet names for one another's left and right titties, and lady boners too. Yeah, it was hot. It was something they hid well from him, especially since it is so hard to imagine, so therefore hard to discover, until one day he came home at eleven to change his shirt having spilled coffee on it during a specially stressful meeting with a fussy client that morning and found them in a compromising position in the bathtub.
"I knew it," he screamed.
They yelled and screamed right back  at him and flung about a lot of soap suds and he fled back to work.
When he came home that night he found a Dear John note stuck to the microwave telling him she had moved in with his first wife and that they wished him well.

                                                                                                                                   -  SDG